


Finding Connor

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Fallout 4
Genre: Again, Angst, Connor is a precious metal boy, Gen, HANK STOP CUSSING PLS, Hank is upset, Hurt/Comfort, I take liberties with canon, Kellogg needs to die, Mentions of Cole - Freeform, Nick is a precious metal man, Spoilers for main questline, Two confused old men, and a dog, have u seen my son, idk how they're here, of both games, the Institute is still a bunch of jerks, their robot son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-09 13:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15268533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Hank wakes up, in Boston of all places, in a world that sure as hell isn't the one he left.





	1. Don't know why I left the homestead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate the title so much, suggestions welcome. 
> 
> I've been gone for a couple of days because I was churning out this thing. (I've actually finished all of it in advance!! :O)
> 
> (Also, rated T for Hank's mouth.)

The once great city of Boston was quiet, no one except the very foolish venturing out into the streets now that dark was swallowing the sky. The ruined buildings moaned in the wind that stirred up two hundred year old trash in the streets, feral dogs sniffing curiously around garbage cans and rotting bodies. Ghouls lumbered around trucks, raiders taking potshots at any that dared to wander too close to their camps. Mutants grumbled and muttered, warily guarding their territory and eyeing the patrolling Gunners moving silently across the ruined still streets.

Diamond City security watched the great green walls of their beloved city with a good deal of vigilance and nervousness. The burgeoning night may have been quiet for the moment, but the mutated horrors that crept within its blackness had been known to pounce unbelievably quickly and quite unexpectedly. The occasional flash of white armor and metal was few and far between, the feared and not often seen Institute synths sticking to ground they'd already cleared of enemies. Even Swan Pond, a place surrounded by myth and legend, a place with apparently unspeakable evils that supposedly resided within it, was unnaturally peaceful for that autumn night. Perhaps that was for the better. The good people of the Commonwealth certainly deserved a break from the irradiated terrors the world had birthed centuries ago.

Outside of Vault 114, however, all was not as peaceful as a post-apocalyptic world could get. In fact, outside the back entrance to Park Street Station were two figures, speaking in raised tones. One was a haggard man, his gray stringy hair falling messily around his face, his sliver beard as unkempt as his person. The other was a robot, dressed in a worn trench coat and fedora, his yellow eyes aglow in the growing dimness.

"So you've lost your kid, and you need my help, is that what you're saying?"

"That about sums it up."

The robot sucked in a long drag on the cigarette before blowing out, letting the smoke curl away into the dusk rapidly growing on the horizon.

The old man looked a bit perturbed but continued stubbornly, "I could find him on my own, except that I'm... Not from around here."

The robot sighed, "You know that line won't work on me. You're not just from somewhere else, you're completely out of place. If you want me to find your son, you're gonna have to be less vague."

"Un-fuckin'-believable, you damn androids are always the same."

The robot frowned, "Androids?"

The man gestured expansively, "Yeah androids, blue bloods, whatever ya call them. Whatever the hell you are. All the same."

The robot shook his head, his thin metal fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in a disturbingly human gesture, "We call them synths here."

"And I suppose they're staging a revolution too, huh?"

This only seemed to make the machine more confused, "Will you just tell me where you're from?"

The man spat, more in frustration at his situation than the 'synth' beside him, "Detroit. I'm from Detroit."

"How did you get all the way here, from Michigan?"

"How the hell should I know? Where the hell is here anyway? I don't remember jackshit, let alone how the fuck I got to here from Detroit-"

The synth stopped him, "Calm down- with that mouth you could be from one of the raider gangs for all I know."

The man seemed to get more offended, "What's wrong with my mouth, you plastic prick? What in the hell is a raider gang anyway? Are those the ugly bastards I had to mow down to get here?"

"Look, let's start again."

He held out his left hand, the one that still had weathered silicone skin covering it, "I'm Detective Nick Valentine, you are?"

The man grunted and took the hand reluctantly, "Lieutenant Hank Anderson."

"Lieutenant?"

Hank eyed him, "I'm with the DPD."

Nick seemed a bit flabbergasted, "The Detroit Police Department? You folks still have one of those?"

"I don't fu-"

Nick frowned disapprovingly, "Alright, I get it, you don't know."

Hank huffed, "You're the only person I've come across who knows what I've meant when I said that."

Nick took another drag of his cigarette, "I was with the CPD, a long time ago. I was moved out of Chicago to assist Boston with the Eddie Winters case."

Hank nodded warily, "Alright. At least that explanation makes sense, now can you tell me where we are now?"

Nick blinked those eerie yellow eyes, "We're still in Boston, Lieutenant."

Hank looked around at the aging, crumbled buildings, and the dark skyline, the sights he'd seen along the way making a little more sense, "Holy shit." He drew out those two words as he realized just where he was, "What the hell happened?"

Nick seemed confused, "The great war?"

Hank gaped, "A war with Russia?"

"...China."

Hank seemed more and more bewildered, "First it was fucking Russia, now it's fucking China, where the fuck is it gonna stop-"

Nick stopped him, "How did you find yourself here, Lieutenant?"

Hank paused, going distant, "We were in the car, my son and I, Cole, and we hit something..." He blinked, "No... No that was ages ago." His hands were trembling, "We were in the car, but it was Connor and I- we hit something." His eyes were wet, "Oh god, we hit something. Tell me I didn't lose him, not again, tell me-"

Nick had his hands on his shoulders, "Hey, pal, listen your kid ain't dead. Trust me, if he was dead we would know. We would know."

Hank calmed gradually, Nick guiding him out of it. As soon as Hank realized what had happened, he shrugged off Nick's reassuring hand. Nick let him do it with a small knowing look, "Lieutenant?"

Hank winced, "Don't call me that."

"What year is it, Hank?"

Hank frowned, "What are you on? It's 2041."

Nick shook his head, and sighed, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking together- though they left more questions than answers, "No, it isn't."

"What the hell you mean, Detective?"

Nick stared. Hank had seen that look once before, on a young nurse's face in the hospital right before he got the worst news in his life. His voice was low and hoarse, "What year is it?"

Nick braced himself, "2287."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't curse in stories, like ever. BUT HANK. HANK BROKE ME. LIKE STOP MY DUDE. but he sounds so wrong otherwise T-T 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr: https://socialanxietyandotherthings.tumblr.com


	2. but now, God knows, anything goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little more clarity, a lot more confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many f words, Hank. So many T-T 
> 
> All of the lovely reviews that ya'll left kept me so excited for this next part! I hope you enjoy! :D

Hank sat in the ramshackle office, disturbingly numb. The fan overhead tilted wearily in the hot August air. Dirt coated everything, even the scarred table and bureau had a layer of muck blasted into its surface. The milky shot glass in his hand rattled and he glared at the amber whiskey inside it, willing it to stop trembling.

He could hear the low murmur of voices in the next room, or whatever the hell you could call it. This office and house really shouldn't have been called an office in its run down condition. He scowled as he caught his name in the conversation. It was between the woman, Ellie he'd called her, and the android detective- Nick Valentine. Well, he'd said he was a synth. The irony of the android detective was not lost on him.

Ever since he'd found himself in this wasteland, face against the dirt and a drooling ugly creature over him, he'd fought and clawed his way out of every situation. He'd stumbled upon a farm and some decent people who helped sort him out, and set him on his course to the place they called Diamond City. That was when he'd heard of the robot detective, and his hopes had soared. He hadn't even stopped on the way to rescue him to even ask the detective's name in his haste, which turned out to be a mistake considering Connor Anderson and Nick Valentine were the furthest things away from each other.

Still his first step was getting to Connor, then he could figure out what the hell had happened, why he was suddenly over two hundred years in the future, in Boston, with no recollection of how that had happened.

Unfortunately, after the crash all he could remember was a blurred too bright memory, crashing sickly yellow-green skies, a pair of dark boots and a voice. Connor's voice. He'd said, "Wait- don't hurt him-"

Then a second one, gruff and amused, "Don't worry, kid, we didn't come for him."

And then just silence and darkness as he'd faded out of consciousness again. Hank was a detective, he knew just how little evidence it was to go off of.

Nick startled him out of his thoughts, striding back into the room in his ridiculous yet somehow workable noir detective outfit. Nick sat down in the chair across from him, "Alright. We've got the story down, but not quite the descriptions, how old is your kid?"

Hank sighed, a hand rubbing his knee, "It's complicated." The girl who couldn't have been more than twenty, with dark hair and a clipboard, raised an eyebrow, her pencil hovering over the page. Hank coughed, "Technically, he's three years old."

Nick blinked.

Hank's knee bounced up and down in a nervous tic, "He looks like he's in his early thirties, though... He dresses in that stupid suit and tie- he flips that silly quarter, he really just doesn't stop fidgeting. It's fuckin' annoying." His voice seemed to be going watery, but his eyes remained dry, "His name is Connor Anderson."

Nick frowned, "Hold on, your kid, Connor, is three?"

Hank nodded, "Yeah, and sometimes he fucking acts like it too. He keeps sticking whatever the fuck he wants in his mouth, whether or not I tell him not too." His annoyance and disgust was fond.

"But he looks like he's in his thirties?"

Hank looked at him in his confusion, "Yeah, he's an android. What? You guys grow up from little kids now?"

Nick gaped, "Your son is a synth? How did you get him away from the Institute?"

"What the hell's the Institute? Don't tell me CyberLife is back like the fucking untouchable creeps they are-"

Nick held up his hand, "Alright. You need to slow down. The Institute, here, is some organization. We don't know what it is, or where it is, but it makes synths."

"Androids."

Nick nodded, "Synths, androids, yes. They kidnap people and replace them with lookalikes, doppelgängers to infiltrate society. They've wiped out whole settlements... Hell, they- they take children all the time- but taking back an escaped synth?"

"Well you're one of them aren't you?"

"They threw me out, though."

Hank shook his head, "Connor isn't from this Institute, anyways, Valentine. He's CyberLife. Well, he was, before we got rid of them." His dry chuckle was soft and tired.

Nick rubbed his forehead, "CyberLife? I have no recollection of an organization of that name existing at all. Especially not back in 2041."

"That's cause it wasn't, it was brought down in 2038."

"Was this a secret organization? I wouldn't put it past the government to do that-"

"What? No."

Nick rubbed his forehead, "First your dates didn't line up, now your past doesn't even have the decency to do that. Alright, look, we can figure out what happened later- your son, Connor, is the priority, right?"

"Yes."

"So Connor, the synth, was taken by a man. You said the sky was green?"

Hank wrinkled his nose, taking a sip of his drink, "Yeah, looked disgusting. Like someone threw up and shit all over the sky."

Ellie suppressed a surprisingly amused smirk, "That would be a radiation storm then." She looked at Nick suddenly, "And the kidnapper had black combat boots on- wait-"

Nick nodded, "Which means he wasn't wearing protection, so either he had a hell of a lotta rad-x, or the rads didn't bother him so much."

Ellie nodded, jotting down notes quickly.

Hank sat back, sighing, "What does that mean?"

Nick shrugged, "It sounds like an Institute nabbing, that's all. Especially since whoever it was left you alive- which says a lot to me about how he didn't worry leaving someone with a grudge alive behind. Do you remember anything else about the encounter?"

Hank frowned, "No." He sighed, "Look, I was a detective too, I know how hard it is going off of so little information. But you're an android, right? Connor could do all sorts of stuff."

Nick raised an eyebrow, "I'm a synth, Hank, and it seems to me that the only similar things about them is that we're both robots."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, nothing about being a synth helps with detective work, expect that I don't need to sleep or eat."

Hank groaned, hand pinching the bridge of nose, "I need a drink."

* * *

 

Nick pushed his hat up his head with his thumb, sighing quietly. Ellie looked up from her desk, chewing on her lower lip, "Everything alright?"

He picked his cigarette up out of the ashtray, rubbing it between his fingers, "Nothing, Ellie. S'just, this case makes no sense. He's from two hundred years ago, but he's got a synth and a whole different history from the rest of the world... None of it lines up at all."

Ellie eyed the stairs where the man slept loudly. She leaned on Nick's desk, "He really cares about him though."

"What?"

"Hank. He really cares about his kid. Or his synth, that is."

Nick shook his head, putting the end of his cigarette between his teeth, "That's another thing I don't get, synths aren't people. They're just machines created to serve the Institute. They don't have free will."

Ellie side eyed him, "You have free will."

Nick's eyes were flinty, "I'm different."

She playfully pushed the brim of his hat down, "I know that, but I also know you like to pretend you're a lot meaner than you actually are."

Nick sighed, a small smile growing, "You think you know me so well..."

She sniffed, "At least I had the good sense to tell Piper you were missing, if I hadn't she would never have sent that Mr. Anderson after you."

"Yes, I know, I'll give you a raise."

Ellie smirked with amusement, leaning on his shoulder, "How'd you guess that's what I wanted, old man?"

Nick stubbed out his cigarette, "Alright, alright. You're too peppy, go to bed."

She got up, heading towards the back of the office, "You're too crotchety."

"Go to bed, Ellie."

She gave him a lazy two fingered salute and a brilliant smile before she disappeared into the next room, her steps quieting as she passed Hank.

The dog on the floor next to the mattress raised its head and woofed quietly across the room. Nick smiled at the big fluffy St. Bernard as it went back to sleep beside its owner. Apparently Hank had a dog, he'd left him with Piper because he didn't want it to get hurt. Sumo, the dog, Hank had said, was more of a gentle giant.

Nick's smile fell and he shifted again, the holster with his pipe pistol in it catching on his worn patched trench coat draped over the back of the chair. Hank Anderson was strange. Nick had known many an officer just like him years and years ago. Himself, or the real Nick Valentine had been one of them, actually. After Jenny had been shot, he'd turned to drink and smokes and insubordination issues in just the same way.

He remembered the man's frantic panic outside of Vault 114, the bit about someone named Cole. He'd bet everything he had that Hank had lost someone, other than Connor. If he was a gambling man- er, synth that is.

Nick straightened the papers on his desk ruefully as he thought about the real Nick Valentine's problems. If only he knew. Hank snored particularly loudly from the next room. Nick remembered how Piper had fetched him to help her lug the Lieutenant into the bedroom because he'd had too much to drink at Bobrov's.

Nick shook his head and hoped that tomorrow would be better, especially for the tired stranger that had knocked on his door. 


	3. you've got to ac-cent-tchu-ate the positive, eliminate the negative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizations, confrontations, and a goal reached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue taken from Fallout 4. :P

Hank wrinkled his nose, trying to ignore the relentless pounding in his head signaling that he was more than a bit hungover, "Ya know what I miss, metal man?"

Nick looked up, a brow raising at the new nickname, "You mean what you miss about the pre-war world?"

"Yeah, that. I miss cereal."

Nick's smile was sly as he turned a page in Piper's newspaper, "Takahashi's power noodles not exactly your idea of a good balanced breakfast?"

Hanks snorted, "No, Mr. Tin Can has a good grasp of noodles, though I'd prefer a shot of good bourbon to wash it down. No, I'm talking full on sugar cereal. None of that off brand stuff, I'm talking Kellogg's Frosted Flakes-" Hank paused, "Where have I heard that before?"

Nick looked up from the paper, "What?"

Hank rubbed his fingers together, a rare bit of excitement showing through his rough facade, "I remember something else! The man, his name! It was Kellogg!"

Nick blinked, alarm in his widening eyes, "Kellogg? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Nick dropped the newspaper hurriedly along with a few caps, "C'mon if you want, I've got to talk to Ellie- we've got a lead."

* * *

 

_"And there he is, the most resilient man in the Commonwealth. Funny, I thought I had that honor."_

_"You murdering, kidnapping psychopath. Give me my son. Give me Connor! Now!"_

_"Your son? That's what the android is to you?"_

_"You tell me where he is you sick fuck, and maybe I won't blow off that smug head of yours, right here, right now."_

_"Right to it, then, huh? Okay. Fine. Your son, Connor, the android. A bit chatty for my tastes. A little more prone to escape attempts than I would've liked, but hey what can you do? But if you're hoping for a happy reunion? Ain't gonna happen, pal. Your boy's not here."_

_"You fuckin' asshole-"_

_"This world, this life? You've seen it. Pain, suffering. Death is its only escape. But don't worry. Connor's fine. But not for long, probably, considering what my employers have in store for him... Your 'kid', you see, is like nothing they've ever seen, and, well, they want to find out what makes him tick."_

Hank seethed, holding back something angry and hard inside of him, something waiting for the right moment, "What kind of people playing god think that they can fuckin' take my son away from me again?"

"The Institute, who else?"

Hank shook his head, "End of the line, Kellogg, you die, and I get my son back."

Kellogg smirked, "You can turn around right now. Go back-" Kellogg never got to finish his sentence. Hank already knew what he was gonna say- he'd heard his spiel a thousand times before from criminals just like him, ones that thought they were untouchable and above it all... But Kellogg hadn't realized that Hank already had all the information he wanted. He brought his gun from chest level to eyesight at record speeds and shot the man right between the eyes- interrupting him rather satisfyingly mid-sentence and his smug smile turned to shock as he fell.

He dropped like a stone and his synth companions immediately started firing. The air filled with lasers and smoke, but they were already too late. Hank smirked ducking behind cover, it was good to know that some robots never changed in the face of pure human instinct.

* * *

 

Sumo woofed and bounded after his tail excitedly.

Hank blinked in the face of the impossibly bright setting sun, blinding him after the musty suffocating darkness of Fort Hagen.

Hank grunted, sitting down on the edge of the building, too tired to move on at the moment. The remnants of one of the turrets they'd shot just that morning lay in burnt shattered parts right across from their ledge.

Nick crushed his cigarette underneath his heel and sat down. They were quiet for a moment, before Nick broke the silence with a, "I'm sorry, Hank."

Hank glared, "Is that right, Detective?"

Nick winced.

Hank continued, "Kellogg didn't fucking have him. The fucker." He ran a hand over the lower half of his face, "I should've been faster. Maybe those Institute bastards wouldn't have him then." He hit the ground with his hand, "Damnit!" The noise was loud in the quiet of the desiccated countryside.

Sumo snuffed at his owner's face worriedly.

Hank absentmindedly ran a hand through the dog's thick fur, "I should've remembered that asshole's name faster."

Nick shook his head, "Look pal, no one could've done that faster. You know we couldn't have gotten here any quicker than we already did."

"You don't know that."

Nick knew how dangerous that should've-could've-would've path was, and he had a feeling the lieutenant knew too, but was far past caring, "Taking that road isn't going to do you any damn good, and you know it."

Hank blinked at the synth's unusually steely voice. So far, the detective had been gentle and understanding, but now his eerily human voice (only spooky because it was coming from his heavily damaged and throughly inhuman face) was firm and unwavering, "You're not going to find your son if you go down that path. That path ends in nothing but trouble- you know better, Hank."

Hank snorted, knowing Valentine was right, but too bitter to admit it, "Oh yeah? How the fuck do you know, Valentine?"

Nick weighed his options before deciding that holding back now would probably do more harm than good, "Do you know what happened in 2077, Lieutenant?"

Hank looked confused, "How the fuck should I know?"

"The bombs fell. The whole world collapsed. No one except the vault dwellers remained unscathed by the fire and radiation."

Hank's brows were still drawn down in that hard line.

Nick continued steadily, "Detective Nick Valentine of the CPD died when the bombs dropped, and everything with him." Hank opened his mouth but closed it as the synth kept on, "A few hundred years later, the Institute made a prototype synth from a long forgotten brain scan- to see if they could plug real people's memories into a robot, to see if they could make the perfect sleeper agent."

Nick made eye contact, his yellow optics bright and suddenly awfully tired, "They made me, Hank."

"You're not the real-?"

"No. I'm a copy, a silicone reflection of a dead man, and don't you think for one damn second that I don't know the road you're going down, that I know you've gone down given the way you act. You should know that second guessing yourself and blaming yourself for a situation you can't control isn't the way to go. It will drag you down, and then you definitely won't find your son."

It was quiet for a moment, Hank's gaze hard and knowing.

He finally moved, shaking his head, "Damn, Nick, you really are something."

Valentine blinked.

Hank looked out over the skyline, the sun now behind the faraway mountains and the rotting skeletons of trees, "And you're right." his words were brittle and weary, "I guess I just needed to hear someone say it."

Nick realized then that Hank had called him by his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves hands* Friendship!! 
> 
> also idk I couldn't figure out how Hank remembered Kellogg and I really wanted cereal, I'm so so r r y for that bit T-T


	4. i don't want to set the world on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he's here. our boy.

Hank sat down on the end of the raised wooden platform, his feet dangling over the edge, next to the body of the raider he'd just killed. He looked out over the lowered highway, tying to hide his exhaustion, "Where is the Glowing Sea anyway?"

Valentine paused, standing on the cement wall, looking down at the bodies of the raiders in the depression, "It's several miles down south, past Quincy and the Jamaica Plains.

Hank closed his eyes, "Great. Never fuckin' heard of it."

Sumo took their pause as a sign that he could rest. He promptly laid down, blocking the wooden stairs and panting heavily. Nick eyed the tired dog and owner thoughtfully. Considering they'd fought their way to Goodneighbor and consequently arrived at the Memory Den that morning... before heading back out the long way towards Diamond City that afternoon, it was probably time to rest, "I think it's time to stop for the night." Nick walked down the first set of rickety stairs, towards the fellow detective.

Hank struggled to his feet, pushing himself up on the metal railing, "What? No. We've got to get to Diamond City- to drop Sumo off so we can get to the Glowing what- fucking- ever-"

Nick rolled his eyes and reached out a hand, lightly pushing on Hank's shoulder. Hank fell back to lean on the railing like chaff being buffeted by strong winds. The detective decided not to comment on the Lieutenant's out of shape state, "Sumo is exhausted. We can't go on." He smirked, "I'm worried about the old boy."

He leaned down to pat the dog, "Wouldn't want him collapsing from exhaustion, now would we?" He looked back at the perturbed but grateful Lieutenant watching him.

"I'll go explore the rest of the tunnel for raiders, and then I'll keep watch."

Hank protested, but Nick interrupted before he could begin, "Because robots don't need to rest, I'm the obvious choice."

Hank swallowed his grumble. Nick looked back one last time before he set off to the explore the dark hollows of Mass Pike Tunnel East, "Don't worry, Hank, we'll find Connor in time."

He set off down the rest of the stairs, and Hank sighed, a quirk to his lips. The effective way in which Nick had silenced his protests before he even began was faintly reminiscent of Connor.

He swallowed as he thought again of his missing son. He rubbed the worn 1994 quarter in his pocket and watched the stars slowly appear in the darkened sky above the glowing green horizon to the south.

* * *

 

Nick shuffled case files around his desk, brow furrowing as he uncovered newspaper clippings, paper clips, and coffee stained papers underneath. He shouted towards the rest of the office, "Ellie!"

All that met his ears was the rain pounding on the thin metal roof, and a dim roll of thunder in the distance. The spring rains were hot and wet, the water too contaminated to be anything other than harmful and acidic to the humans struggling to survive underneath it.

Ellie didn't answer and he shook his head fondly, gathering the clippings from Piper's newspapers together curiously. A dry smile formed as he realized they were about their visitor from a different... Well, somewhere, though he doubted it was just Detroit, Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Their venture to Fort Hagan and afterwards, the Memory Den and the Glowing Sea had been just five weeks ago.

Before the detective had parted ways, they'd shared a drink at Bobrov's (by sharing, he meant, Hank had gotten himself one and then Nick had bought Hank another). The next morning, Hank had departed, saying he was going to hunt for a courser and someone who'd build a teleportation device to infiltrate the Institute. Nick didn't have to tell him how crazy a plan it was, he could see it in the Lieutenant's eyes that he knew already.

Nick stacked the clippings neatly and stuck them in the folder. Maybe one day he'd be able to close the case, with Piper's report about the successful return of a one 'Conner Anderson.'

Nick's mouth turned down sourly as he thought about the probabilities of that event happening in the near future. He stretched to place the newly organized files in the cabinet by his desk. The big dog underneath his table raised his head at his movements and woofed quietly.

Nick smiled and closed the file cabinet drawer, his metal hand going down to scratch the big dog's ears. Hank had left Sumo with them, with a muttered 'he wouldn't last more'n two days out there.' His goodbye to the loyal canine had been brief, but Nick knew Hank had been more than a little upset leaving the big guy behind.

Nick spoke to Sumo absentmindedly, as the dog's tail starting wagging furiously, "You like that, boy?"

They both startled as with a loud otherworldly sizzle, a blindingly bright blue and white light flashed throughout the detective's office. Nick stood, knocking his chair back and pulling his pistol on the two figures that had suddenly materialized across from his desk. Sumo barked excitedly, scrambling up and out to greet them.

Nick gaped when the light died down to reveal two men. The first was the absent Lieutenant Hank Anderson in a considerably grimy armored coat with a large hunting rifle strapped to his back. The other figure was being supported by Hank, a man in his thirties with meticulously neat brown hair and a strange grey and black suit, jacket, and tie. A hand was clutching his stomach, and blue liquid coated his fingers.

Nick shoved his pipe pistol back into the holster, delighted surprise in his eyes, "Hank, is that-"

Hank's voice was gruff and tired, "Nick, we've got a problem."

Nick jolted into action, the blue liquid coating clothes and hands increasingly worrisome, "Get him into the bed, I'll grab my repair kit."

Sumo bounded ahead of them, tongue lolling, unaware that the return of his two favorite people was not quite the happy reunion they'd been waiting for.

Sumo wedged himself under the rickety stairs at the head of the mattress as Hank gently dropped his companion onto the bed, a hand at his brow and the other pressed over the hole in his abdomen. Nick skidded to a stop beside the two, he quickly shed his trench coat, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

"What's the problem? What happened?"

Hank turned to the kid, "Connor, Connor, hey, can you tell me what's damaged?"

Connor, it was Connor, said with surprising lucidity only a slight tremble in his voice, "I have not sustained damage to my thirium pump, Lieutenant, however, a bullet has grazed a vital tubing that carries thirium too it."

Hank shook his head fondly, "The hell does that mean, son?"

Nick nudged at their hands, more accustomed to the familiar/unfamiliar technobabble than the other man, "It means he's leaking, Hank. I've gotta find it."

Luckily, his shirt had already been unbuttoned, but Nick blinked at the skin that melted into white porcelain-like metal around the hole. Blue stained the inside and obscured his vision. Nick grabbed at a rag in his toolkit, wiping it away to get a clear look, "What the hells all this blue stuff?"

Sumo nosed Connor's head curiously. Connor, worryingly, didn't respond to the dog, instead he answered in that peculiarly unfazed voice, "It is thirium."

Hank translated this time, "That's his equivalent of blood." He cursed, "Tell me you can do something."

Nick shook his head, "I've never seen half this stuff before, but I'll be damned if I can't plug a simple leak." The hole was jagged, a bullet had shattered a panel on his chest, bits of metal inside the gap. As well as shards of white metal, the gaping wound was filled with blue blood, wires, tubes, and flashing lights that looked awfully complicated compared to his own basic and easily home repairable metal skeleton.

"Sorry, kid, but this is gonna hurt something awful." Nick set to work, despite the daunting task ahead of him. Thankfully, a moment later, he found a thin yet strong coil severed completely at the end, with pools of blue blood welling up out of it. A simple enough problem that he'd encountered before with himself. With a little more searching he uncovered the other end, bits of it peeling away like a toddler had gone at it with scissors. Nick motioned to Hank, both of his hands elbow deep in the kid's equivalent of a stomach. He was damn lucky they were both robots, "Hank grab me that duck tape in there, and those two eight inch pipe wrenches."

"What the fuck ones are those, Nick?"

"The smallest in the box," Nick answered right as his patient lifted his head and replied, "I believe they are the smallest in the toolkit, Lieutenant."

Hank grumbled, "Fucking androids bein' fuckin' smartasses."

Nick took the wrenches, clamping off both ends of the tubing. Connor sucked in a breath sharply, pupils wide and dilated. Nick looked up, "How you doing, kiddo?"

Hank's voice was gruff, a hand stroking Connor's hair, "Are you okay, son?"

Connor blinked, looking up before speaking in a strained voice, "It is... Uncomfortable, Hank, but I can manage." He frowned, "The amount of error messages are quite cumbersome at the moment, however."

Hank worriedly looked at Nick, "That's bad. He means it hurts like hell."

Nick nodded and returned to his work. He had to clean away the excess thirium to get the tape to stick, but it did, and Nick reinforced the tape several times over, just to be sure that only another bullet would be able to pry the two ends apart. Carefully he unclamped the wrenches, and sat back, watching the flow of the blue blood return to normal. Once he determined that the thirium was flowing properly again, he got back to work, removing the bits of shrapnel in the cavity. Hank was murmuring quietly to Connor, a hand stroking his hair. Connor whispered back, wincing and hissing with pain occasionally, but the distraction of conversation seemed to be an effective one. Nick continued working. A few minutes later, he deposited all of the white shards in a neat pile by the bed.

Hank looked at him hopefully, "Is that it?"

"Near as I can tell, Hank. Half this stuff means nothing to me." Nick gestured, "I mean, you will eventually have to patch that hole."

Connor spoke up, his voice quiet and tired, "I believe that was the worst of the problem, Hank. I am reentering standby mode, where my systems will recover." Hank turned back, "Hey- wait, I still need to- ah, fuck. He's gone." Sumo whined, resting his head next to Connor's, blinking up at the two of them mournfully.

Nick shook his head, "From what I heard him say, that's a good thing, isn't it, Hank?"

Hank ran a hand down his face, "Yeah, it is. S'just, I don't know what the hell those fuckin' monsters were doing to him for the better part of six months." He grimaced when he realized thirium still covered his hands.

Nick stood, offering his hand. Hank grabbed the proffered arm and helped himself up. Nick responded, "Tell you what, let's clean ourselves up, and then, while we're waiting for the kid to wake up, you tell me what you've been doing for the last eight weeks."

Hank grimaced, the thirium on his hands glistening in the dim light.

A loud crash of something too loud to be thunder rocked the house, Nick nearly falling down at the deafening roar. He frowned, "That wasn't thunder-"

Hank smiled, sharp and brittle, full of vicious satisfaction, "That would be it then."

"What?"

Hank shook his head, "Hey, I'll tell you. Just, let me get this stuff off, huh? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a review! :)


	5. a big explosion, big and loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I play fast and loose with canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the people who have no idea what happens in Fallout 4? I'm sorry, lots of exposition and stuff related to that in this chapter XD

Hank positioned himself on the thin metal chair, slumping into it like he hadn't sat down in weeks. Nick drew up a wooden one, stationing himself next to the Lieutenant in the hallway. Connor was silent and still, hopefully repairing himself.

Hank sighed, "Well, after we came back from the Glowing Sea, and I'd gotten the Courser, I decided to head back up north to go find those Minutemen I'd happened upon in Concord."

"That one incident you told me about, with the...?" He made a motion with his good hand, "The Deathclaw?"

Hank chuckled wearily, "Heh, yeah. That fucking monstrosity didn't know what the hell hit him." He sighed, picking at the blue that still stubbornly stained underneath his fingernails, "Well, I figured they might help me after I helped them out. I mean, I had helped them only a few days after I'd woken up in that shit field with a mole rat trying to take a chunk outta my head."

Hank sighed, "I never even made it that far back. I ran into some Brotherhood patrol in, uh, I think Cambridge."

Nick's poker face was impeccable, "Yeah, I'd heard the Brotherhood had come to the Commonwealth."

"Yeah, well, they're a bunch of bastards. All of them. I saved their stupid asses from a buncha' ghouls and you know what happens? They say they don't need some civilian's help, then after they'd determined that I wasn't gonna shoot them- again, this was after I had saved their butts, they ask me for help." Nick's poker face was faltering as he tried not to smile, "I said 'no fuckin' way'. Well, they didn't like that." He closed his eyes in annoyed remembrance, "A bunch of pricks with sticks up their butts."

He opened his eyes and looked at Nick who was failing to suppress a smile, "Are you laughing?"

Nick shook his head, obviously thinking of Hank's subordination issues on their own trip, "No, Hank, I just shoulda figured you'd get along _so_ well with the Brotherhood."

Hank raised an eyebrow, but hid a smile of his own, "Yeah, laugh it up, you weren't there. I ended up helping them because I felt sorry for them. They couldn't find their ass with their own two hands."

He leaned back, the tension slowly leaving, "Well, anyway. I help them, and even tell them that I got a way into the Institute. So they take me to their giant fuckin' blimp in the sky. They get all excited until I tell them that the kid they're rescuing is an android. Needless to say, I forcibly took my leave after that."

Nick blinked, "You shot your way out?"

"No, I'm not suicidal. I snuck out an' stole a vertibird which I crashed across the water on a dock full of super mutants." Nick snorted as Hank continued, "It's not like I could do any worse than their own shitty pilots."

Hank sighed, "So there I am, running low on bullets, the Brotherhood after me because they want in, super mutants on my tail, and a fucking radstorm on the horizon... And I'm back to square one, find the Minutemen. But first, I had to shake everyone on my tail and get out of the radiation." Hank rubbed his forehead, "I hid in the first building I found, which ya' know was the Old North Church."

Nick asked curiously, flexing his metal fingers as if they bothered him, "Wasn't that one of Boston's old pre-war Revolutionary War attractions?"

Hank nodded, "Yeah. But it gets worse. It happens to be the last stop on the Freedom Trail."

Nick blinked, he knew the rumors, "Wait- you didn't-"

Hank smirked, "So I go in, and the place is infested with ghouls. I can see them flopped over on the ground and hanging out in inconspicuous places. Even if I hadn't seen them, I could've still smelled them." He shrugged his shoulders, "I can't go out, so I see a door on my left and I sneak out that way. Just my luck, the whole place has underground catacombs that are dark as fuck."

Sumo woofed but Hank ignored him, "I get down there, fight a few stray ghouls and find a suspicious looking wall and some contrived as hell puzzle on the door. It wasn't very hard, I mess around with the damn thing for a while and I get the door opened. Well, all I get on the other side is darkness. Now, I'm not stupid, Valentine."

Nick snorted, quipping back before he could stop himself, "Debatable."

Hank glared before he shook his head, "Fuckin' smartass androids."

"Synths."

"Bullshit. Now, as I was saying, I'm not stupid. There's obviously someone there. I get my gun out, and there's a lever on the side of the wall. So I pull it and the whole room lights up with a group of people on the other side. Well, it's the fuckin' Railroad and they're baffled as to how I found their stupid _as_ _fuck_ secret hideout. I could've shot all of them if I'd been smarter. Just thrown a grenade in there, and they all would've died. I tell them that, which they're not very happy about."

Hank half laughs, "But this guy, _this guy_ Deacon thinks that I just said the funniest thing he's ever heard. He convinces them to hire me on the spot. I tell them I don't have time to help them, I've got my own problems, like rescuing my robot kid from the damn Institute and building a teleportation device." Nick smirked as Hank gestured wildly, "And that for some damn reason has them running in excited circles like a dog that's gonna pee itself. Suddenly, I'm set up with their weirdass mechanic, and a way in. They want me to get a download of all the Institutes files when I get there. So I teleport in, grab the files, and then find out," he laughed near hysterically, "That the Institute needs _my_ help. They had got Connor, but then he'd escaped them and hid out somewhere in their place and now, they can't fucking find him!"

He laughed again, "They were a bunch of fuckin' amusing idiots."

Nick frowned, " _Were?_ "

Hank smiled widely for the first time that Nick had ever seen, "Oh yeah. _Were_. So I say, yeah, I'll help them find my kid for some stupid reason about the greater good of the Commonwealth or whatever. I pretended to agree. I just told them that I could track Connor, but the device was at the surface. It took a couple a days and a lot of fooling around pretending I was on their side, but eventually they believed me. So they fuckin'- they fuckin' teleport me back to where I came from."

Nick nodded, "So you handed over the download of the Institute's information to the Railroad?"

Hank held up his hands, "Hell yeah, I did. It took a few days, but we found a way in. So I go inside, and let the Railroad loose. While they evacuate the synths and set explosives on the Institute power sources, or whatever, I go find Connor. The kid is," he laughs, but his voice is strained, "He's hiding out in an old closed off research section. He's banged up, from when they had him, but overall okay. I get the fuck out, but on the way Connor got hurt." Hank's jaw works as if there's more to this story than he's letting on, but Nick doesn't pursue it.

The Lieutenant continued, "I asked the Railroad to get me here, instead of the rendezvous point, because I knew you could repair him better than anyone over there." Nick's optics widened as he realized Hank had again placed his son's life in his hands.

"So wait, you just came from the Institute?" It suddenly dawned, "That loud roar earlier, that was an explosion! That was the Institute!"

Hank sat back, that sharklike smile in place, "That _was_ the Institute. I suspect, there's just a crater there now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting early! Because I'm gonna be busy tomorrow! Hope ya'll enjoyed! :)


	6. it's all over, but the crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a flashback and the end

_About a day earlier..._

Alarms blared red, lights flashing and people screaming. He brought up his hunting rifle and shot, the man firing his laser rifle at the fleeing synths dropped like a stone. He continued on. The railroad had said that with the specs he'd gotten them, they'd found several abandoned areas. Areas where Connor might be. Unfortunately, there were several, and he didn't have a lot of time.

The smooth white door opened soundlessly into an empty corridor. He turned to the right, wedging the doors open and into yet another disgustingly clean corridor. According to the blueprints he had to find the second storage closet. Another turn and the door opened up into a dirty abandoned lab.

Hank grinned, he was on the right track. Alarms still whined, muted now in the background. Several emaciated synths lay crushed against the walls.

Hank swallowed. Something big had done this.

A few more feet in the widening maze, some deactivated laser wires, and several crushed robot corpses later, he found himself at the end of the corridor.

Hank glanced around, his gun raised, "Connor?"

There was only silence and the faint scream of the sirens in the background accompanied by spurts of gunfire.

"Kid, are you here?"

Hank waited, but there was no response.

He turned to go, but, a quiet voice stopped him, "Hank? Is... is that you?"

Hank whirled around, jogging towards the noise. There, a closet hidden behind a desk. He pried it open, almost disbelieving that he'd really heard anything at all.

He hadn't imagined it. There, in the darkness was an achingly familiar LED cycling blue. Connor. Hank knelt down, almost hesitant to touch him, "Son? Are you okay?"

Connor nodded, "I am not harmed, Lieutenant."

Hank sighed, "Thank fuck." And pulled him in for a tight hug.

Connor mumbled into his shoulder, "I see that you have not improved your language while I have been away, Hank."

Connor pretended not to hear the quiet sniff and unusual gruffness of Hank's voice, "Yeah, well, looks like you're gonna have to stick around and do a better job this time, huh, kid?"

"Apparently so, Lieutenant."

A few moments later, Hank was pulling Connor to his feet, taking him out of the dark closet and back into the dark and dusty room. Hank blinked in the light before looking back at Connor. He frowned suddenly, "You said you weren't fuckin' hurt!"

Connor stared back, "I am not harmed, Lieutenant."

"Then what the hell is all that?"

He was referring to the outer panels missing along the edge of his forearm, tiny scratches marring the area around it. Connor looked down before carefully sliding his sleeve over the cuts, "I had forgotten about that. It is nothing serious, they were merely taking samples."

"Yeah, you better not be hiding anything else."

Connor titled his head, "Of course, doing so would be counterproductive."

Hank raised an eyebrow but began moving again, "C'mon, this whole place will blow unless we get going."

Connor nodded and followed.

Honestly, considering that everything was going so well, Hank should've known to be more careful. He turned the corner just in time to see the synth holding the gun standing in the hallway, head cocked and eyes narrowed.

It's finger pressed the trigger half a second later.

After that, everything happened too fast. Hank had immediately thrown himself backwards, a cry of alarm on his lips. Connor, coming up on his left had thrown himself forward, calculations and predications rushing through him at the blink of an eye.

His priority- his mission was to save Hank.

Connor flung himself in front, taking a bullet in the chest, the one that would've struck the senior detective. He continued forward, tackling the synth in an inhumanly fast display. Another moment passed as he wrestled the gun out of the robot's grip, a point blank shot to its head effectively destroying it.

Connor huffed, a hand going to his abdomen. Several bio components were damaged, one severely, but his thirium pump was untouched.

Hank was coming up behind him, "That was fucking scary, Connor. You nabbed the assholes in two seconds flat." He ruffled Connor's hair, worry hidden in the gesture, "I'm just glad you're okay."

Connor looked up, the sudden loss of blood and the pain of the wound hitting him rather hard. His LED cycled red as thirium pooled at the corners of his mouth, "I- I don't feel so good."

"Connor?"

The world was titling sideways, "Sorry, Dad..."

"Connor! Connor, don't you fuckin' dar-!"

* * *

 

Connor woke hours later, his systems apparently recovered, and Nick retreated to the other end of the office to give the two men (?) some space. He couldn't help but listen when their voices raised to echo across the room.

"Fuckin' hell, Connor. I never asked you to take a bullet for me!"

"Lieutenant-"

"Connor, stop distancing yourself. " There was a shuffle and then, "Connor. Damn it, I can't have you throwing yourself in the way every time you think I'm in danger. You're not indestructible."

Connor's murmur was quieter, "Hank, there was a 96.2 percent chance that if I did nothing, you would die. There was only an 71.3 percent chance that I would bleed out before you reached safety-"

Hank spluttered, "The hell, Connor? What's happened to you? You're a fuckin' deviant, why are you acting like a machine?"

Connor's voice was muffled, as if he were speaking through Hank's jacket. Nick smiled slightly as he realized the ever gruff and angry Hank had pulled his kid in for a hug, "Everything is different here, Hank. I had to take the chance." His voice was suddenly very soft, "I couldn't lose you again, Dad."

Nick looked back at his papers, a smile still on his lips. He picked up his worn fedora, stuck it on and went for a walk.

A lot of things were still left unsaid and undone, and there was still a long road to travel, but for now, just for this moment, Nick could take a minute to stop and savor this small victory that had reunited a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!! Thank you all so much for commenting and leaving kudos, <3 I love each and every one of you! ^_^


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